by JR King
Elena turned, dragging the sheet so it draped like a toga, flashing her right breast. Its nipple was hard, looking expectant, the wire to her earbuds running up between her breasts. As someone who was very passionate about the sense of smell and taste, even from my side of the bed, the delicate sandalwood scent of her hair was baiting me. She took the earplugs out of her ears and set her iPod aside. For the next few minutes, she remained deliciously silent as well.
I flicked off the nightstand lamp and shut my eyes, hoping for sleep to take me. I wasn’t sure how long I lay wake, my restless mind keeping me awake with ceaseless ruminations. Love shouldn’t be this messy, I thought aloud.
Elena moaned softly in her sleep and rolled over. I let out a quiet sigh of relief as I noted she was still asleep. It was only when she began to cry all at once that I realized she was in the grip of a terrible nightmare.
“Elena?” I pulled her into my arms, holding her gently against my chest as she cried. I’d always considered it bad luck to wake a person while they were dreaming, a personal superstition I’d had since childhood.
“No,” she sobbed. I closed my eyes and squeezed her trembling body, planting reassuring kisses on her shoulder. She rambled nonsensically between sobs. “I’m not good enough,” she kept murmuring.
“You’re perfect, sweet little Elena,” I countered softly.
Eventually, the dream ended and the tears subsided, and I fell asleep with my arms wrapped around her.
Then, in the middle of the night, I woke up to a strange noise.
“Ja…a,” a raw exhortation came to me, startling me out of drowsiness.
My eyelids flew open. I stared straight into the gulf of darkness, my heart pounding from the adrenaline surge. For a moment, I didn’t dare to suck in another breath. My mind registered, a few seconds later, that I was completely naked and uncovered. The blinding white sheets beneath me were torn from their moorings. Despite the central heating system running on high capacity, I felt a little chilly.
“Ja…a,” a repeat came to my ears. It was a murmur in that singsong way you only hear in horror movies. The sound had emanated from the other side of the bed. From Elena. I sat up on the rumples of the bed, and stared at her. It looked like she’d rolled away from me, stealing the covers. Although the sounds escaping her throat were muffled, there was a raw quality to them that gave me goosebumps. My girl was in pain, shivering like a little fish in a net, breathing hard and gasping for air.
“Elena?” I began uncertainly, sliding closer. I peered down at her, opening my mouth to say something, but nothing came out. I swallowed, sighed loudly, and tried again. “What are you dreaming on about?”
Her voice low and hoarse, she cried out something nonsensical then flopped over onto her back. One arm hit the pillow only a few inches away from me.
I reached out cautiously and touched it. “Ariel?”
“No,” she mumbled and turned away, still mired in sleep. The movements caused her other arm to flop toward the edge of the bed. I wondered if she was going to wake up on her own or if I should try to wake her. Didn’t matter. I had to hold the darkness at bay and keep her safe and unscathed from whatever monsters were lurking in her world. Her breathing calmed a bit, and just when it seemed like she was settling down, she cried out again. “Jax,” she rasped out, very clearly.
I paled, felt a hot tide of jealousy surging over me.
Great. She was dreaming about another man. About her ex. I remembered his pin-up poster smile. We’d met at a charity gala.
“I’m no good,” Elena murmured.
Slowly my rational side reasserted itself: Jax had most likely helped her conquer her fears. I swallowed and reached for her again, suppressing the residual pangs of jealousy. “Sweetheart, I’m here,” I tried in a low, understanding voice. When my fingertips touched her face, she grabbed my hand, her motions so fast and shocking that only a small huff escaped me as she pulled me toward her.
“Come back to me.” I rested my forehead against her temple, felt her muscle pulsing madly. “I can’t make bricks without straw. I want to help you find your resolve, Ariel.” My voice, I hoped, was both demanding and soft, and I cradled her gently, gentle as the gentlest lover anyone could ask for.
Following a lull of movements, she was still asleep. Her arms around me were hot, her embrace almost suffocating. I could feel her shaking as she held me tightly against her, her skin clammy with sweat. I pressed my face to her shoulder. Heard her heart galloping.
“Baby, are you all right?”
“Mommy doesn’t move,” she whispered into my hair, her fingers digging into my back with such force that I was sure there would be scratches and bleeding bruises. Yet I didn’t mind because I knew she wasn’t doing this on purpose. She was in the grip of a nightmare, seeking comfort. I was the only one who could provide it.
“It’s all right. I’m here. I’m here for you.”
“He’s here!” She tried to jerk upright, but was met with flexing muscles. Disoriented, her eyes opened up.
“He’s gone, Elena. You’re safe.” My hand reached out to the nightstand. Within seconds the room was dim and warm and homey, bedside light slanting across our faces. This was the first time I saw such a terrifying look in her eyes. “I’m here.”
“Promise?” The tendons of her neck rippled, indication of a mouth gone dry.
Sighing deeply, I nuzzled against her warm neck, feeling more jealous than I’d ever been in my life. “I promise. Just go back to sleep.”
She remained silent, snuggling against me more. After a while, I could hear her breathing easing. Her arms relaxed a little, no longer squeezing me with wild desperation, and her frantic heartbeat began to slow. “Beanie babies…are here,” she went on in a broken mumble. There was less pain in her voice now, as though she was reliving happier times, whatever those may be. “It’s okay now.”
With my head buried in the abundance of silky locks, I relaxed. “It’s okay.” She wasn’t the only one in need of love and comfort. I, too, craved the sensation of closeness and safety. Despite everything that’d happened between our parents, I knew we could make it. Elena, herself, was the one thing I feared, logically. Feared that she’d leave me.
Lazily, I rolled onto my back, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I couldn’t recall what was more important: that Elena dreamt about her exes, or that she dreamt about the one who’d made her whole again.
Elena rolled up into a ball beside me, tucking her head under my arm.
Both our breaths grew quiet. I realized I would never get back to sleep, and not wanting to lie there and dwell on Elena’s dream, I decided to get up and take a shower. My body was sticky with sweat.
“This isn’t real,” Elena mumbled. Sitting up, I supported my head on a hand. I watched her. She breathed steadily in her sleep, pursing her lips and frowning as she readjusted her position. “It isn’t real. It’s a dream.”
I tossed the covers out of the way and took my cock in hand. Fisting it once. Twice. Rock-hard. Then I rolled her over and got on top. I held her wrists above her head and trapped them against the mattress, opened her with my free hand and guided my cock between her labia. “Do you want it to be real?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
I thrust slowly but powerfully inside her. She wasn’t ready. To allow me to go deeper until there was nothing left for of me to push, I commanded her to open her legs wider.
“Alex,” she cried. “Oh, Alex. Take me.”
Thank God she said my name this time. Of their own volition, my hips rocked into her, my body seeking a way to crawl inside her. With each thrust, the base of my cock nudged her swollen clit. Trouble is that I couldn’t get deep enough—as if I believed that fucking her deeper could bind her to me forever.
Alexander Turner
The WhatsApp Addiction
We’re all cyberpuppets, I thought. No technical doohickeys or other restricted my company’s Internet access, highest-trafficked porn and social
networking websites could be consulted at any time. Unlike a public sector career, when people signed up for the private sector they signed up for meritocracy. You know the saying: with great power comes great responsibility. Besides the fact that the Kinsey Institute was banned from coming anywhere near my world, I was a strong believer of free will. People can choose and decide for themselves. Thank God for The First Amendment. What I’m trying to say is that I was watching a funny home-porn video at work. A guy was fucking his girl from behind, pulled out to jizz all over her ass but was met with…let’s say strong wind. Cool clip, more of a parody, yet I didn’t laugh a bit.
Recently, I felt sick. Like I’d just watched Salò—the movie based on Marquis de Sade’s The 120 Days Of Sodom—or Lars von Trier’s Antichrist. Like I was a canary in a coalmine. Like I ate bad sushi and suffered a violently ill episode. Like I got a lap dance from a random, trashy Las Vegas stripper and developed a rash. Jealousy did that. Have you ever felt this? Felt really jealous? You know you’re being unreasonable, and yet you can’t stop yourself.
A couple of CCs later, I was virtually looking at an emerald-cut diamond ring with platinum tapered baguettes. It was cherry blossom season in Japan, a magical setting for a wedding proposal. Too much, too soon? Alternatively, I bought myself a Jacob & Co watch. Then I checked my iPhone for messages. Two new ones, but not from Elena. I glanced at the Rolex clock above the door, waited, and called her at noon.
Second ring was the winner. “Alex? Is everything all right?”
“The word of the day is legs, Ms. Anderson. We must spread the word.”
She laughed. “You should call more often. I like this.”
“I shall try. Come to my office so we can spread the word.”
“Give me ten minutes. Please?”
“Have I ever caviled?” I grumbled defensively.
“You’re the best, Alex. Love you. So, so much.”
Afternoon sun lit the surface of my desk. A little slipped over the edge, casting a bright streak across the carpet. I wondered if Jax used to call Elena reliably throughout the day. I resolved to establish a pattern.
I strode toward the bar area, my heavy, deliberate footsteps vibrating in the room. I stopped before the immaculately cleaned countertop in the center, as if looking for something to straighten. My eyes drifted to the man seated on the sofa, staring into his knowing eyes. “Any news?”
Jerry’s understanding eyes stared back at me. “Found a nugget of information. Unless you end it with Elena, Diane will start a smear campaign. Make no mistake, she has nothing to lose, Alex.”
More you-reap-what-you-sow shit.
“Elena has to step up. I know it sucks, but suck it up.”
“Don’t you dare dumping on her!”
Waiting for Elena to arrive, Jerry and I disputed over the stylized, proscriptive way of addressing the problem at hand he’d chosen. When she did, we greeted her cheerfully, all malevolent looks gone in favor of friendly grins.
“Elena, the sweet sound of your voice is preferable to his,” Jerry wheedled, his mouth curving wickedly.
I looked daggers at him.
Squint-eyed, Elena asked him, “What’s the damage?”
“Diane Knight. According to her esteemed publicist, who just quit, she’s out for blood,” he bluntly answered.
Elena, whose eyes widened so much that they reminded me of a lemur, drew them toward mine. “Is she flouting your confidentiality agreement?”
“No.” It came out too simplistic and dry.
“Elena, Diane doesn’t know about Alexander’s transgressive sexual practices, playroom, etc. Just loutish behavior during intercourse,” Jerry rectified.
I tensed at the account. Ran my hand through my hair in annoyance.
“It’s…m-me, isn’t it?” she stuttered.
Wanting to crawl out of my skin, “Don’t beat yourself up over it,” I assured her.
Shakily, she looked back at Jerry. “Can you stop her?”
“I don’t negotiate with blackmailers or MSM, Elena,” Jerry laughed. “A Vanity Fair spread is my answer to Diane. Will you stand beside Alexander and open up about your past?”
She looked down, as if suddenly spellbound by her Alaïa studded cutout leather sandals. They cost several thousand dollars, that’s what you get when you were with me.
“If Alexander wouldn’t go to the mat for you, I wouldn’t have asked this kind of—,”
“You don’t have to,” I interfered. “We’ll find a munificent accord or something else. Tax fraud, drug abuse, I know enough.”
“Whistle-blowing because of me? No way.” She looked up, her gaze skating proprietarily over my body. “NO, ALEX!” I stiffened. No girl had ever shouted at me like that. “I’m in, Jerry.”
As I opened my mouth to protest, Jerry held up a hand and said, “Why don’t you two discuss this at home?” He closed his croc briefcase. “I need a definite answer after Easter.” He gave Elena a hug before leaving.
She met my eyes again and sighed. “I want to come clean about daddy.” The casualness with which she spoke about her father astonished me. “This thing is like a sword of Damocles hanging over our heads. I’m a killer’s daughter, but that doesn’t mean I’m one. For convenience’s sake, grandpa petitioned a judge for the official name change.”
“Shut up and stand against the wall, Elena.” She was a picture of female loveliness: helpless, silent, obedient. Watching her from behind my desk, I wanted nothing more than to slip the colorful Marchesa guipure lace dress from her shoulders. “Come sit on my desk.” I was crazy in love. The kind of unsafe love that made you gasp in excitement for a chance to grab anything that’d slow down the vertiginous feeling of the plummet. Thoughts of her consumed me. I loved her wholly, with every fiber of my being and every breath I took. Uncontrolled desires, with no end written into the story. The prospect of a life without her was crippling.
And so, as she hoisted herself up onto my desk and swung her legs back and forth, I knew I’d marry her one day in the near future. “Are you friends with Jax?”
Silence.
I set my hands on top of her kneecaps, and broke it. “I believe I spoke last.”
“We…like maybe speak once or twice a year,” she told me with a slow, overdramatic mumble. “Birthdays and Christmases.”
I got to my feet. “I see.” I pulled the hair tie from her hair, smiling as the tumble of midnight silk fell across her back. By sprawling backward on the desk, she robbed me the warmth of her body. “Let’s get this straight, Elena,” I stated dickishly. A small gasp left her throat when my body settled over hers. I placed a hand on either side of her head, trapping her. “You,” I went on roughly, my mouth hovering near hers, “are mine. Nobody, not Mitchell, not Jax, nobody is going to take you from me. It’s my name you scream everyday, it’s me who makes you come hard multiple times a day, it’s my cock you beg for every night. It’s me you love, Elena. ME.” Her eyes closed and she shuddered as my hand moved to cup her cheek, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. “Look at me.” I cruelly patted her cheek, traced her jawline with my fingertips, and rested two extended fingers on her lips. Looking up, she took my fingers into her mouth and sucked hard. I hooked my fingers behind her bottom teeth and pulled her up by the jaw, leaning in close enough to whisper in her ear. “Nobody is going to take you away from me. I love you beyond all reason, cara.”
“Cara.” I noticed her puzzled expression. “I’m a cara.”
“Do you like that?” I inquired humorously. Her eyes flew to mine, a wave of pure lust spreading across her face. “Ca-ra,” I emphasized both syllables.
Her head fell back, as if allowing the words to wash over her. “Your cara.”
That was one of the sexiest things I’d ever heard. “Say it again,” I demanded.
Her head moved up, her breath hot in my ear as she murmured, “Your cara.”
My hands grasped her ass and lifted her. “Shall we spread the word? Widely?�
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“Incurable pervert,” her eyes flashed at me, her tone curdling with a mixture of excitement and disgust, “that’s what you are.”
“Look who’s talking, the young one who takes frequent and excessive advantage of my body.” I put her on her feet. “What do you want?” my low grunt peace offered.
The tiniest shard of lust glinted in her eyes before her head went down, fingers curling into her palms. “Easter.”
I slowly exhaled a breath I hadn’t noticed I was keeping in. “Let’s discuss it.”
Easing her way along the side to the window, she looked outside. “Could we spend it with my grandparents?”
I ran my hand through my hair again and followed her eyes. “Aren’t I spending enough time with them?”
“You’re not obliged to do sleepovers, Alex. I’m a big girl.”
Running my fingers through my hair in agitation, I scowled. “Couples don’t separate for frigging sleepovers.” The surly insensitivity was a defense mechanism, a faulty one, I realized too late. If it were possible to delete a spoken line the way you could delete a written line when typing on a pad, I would have done it in a heartbeat.
“If it’s a deal-breaker, why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“It isn’t.” Tucking my tongue into my cheek, I attempted to suppress the ironic smile that stole across my face. “I like seeing your grandparents. I wish…we saw mine—,”
“We saw yours more,” she interrupted. “Joint-venture?”
I nodded. “Spoken like a CEO. Certainly, sweetheart.”
“Did you need something else?” she inquired silkily.
I unbuckled my belt, revealing how she’d affected my dick. “Suck it,” I told her as I flexed it toward her. She didn’t stand on ceremony for too long. I held her, my hands tangled in thick hair as I watched her head bob up and down. The rush of her mouth’s heat and the feel of her satin-soft tongue were shockingly intense, I abruptly pulled back. She looked at my cock, unbelievably hard and glistening with her saliva, and impulsively grabbed it to resume sucking. Greedy pet. Warm, playful licks from root to tip were driving me half out of my mind. She followed the line of bulging veins, the flat of her tongue stroking the throbbing ridges, going over the sensitive crown of my cock. There was too much buildup, so I pulled myself free from her grasp. “You like that, don’t you?” It was less of a question, more a statement of fact. I kept my gaze locked on hers as I wiped her lips dry with the back of my hand.